


two way street

by spectacolour



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Curtain Fic, Established Relationship, M/M, commitment issues, semi domestic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2020-07-28 23:57:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 16,694
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20072746
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spectacolour/pseuds/spectacolour
Summary: Everyone would raise their eyebrows and asks them how they manage to stay together for seven years without moving forward, but Junmyeon would disagree that they’re not moving forward. They do, they just don’t flaunt it in everyone’s faces.Chanyeol would agree.





	1. one year

**Author's Note:**

> the title has been re-branded from broken clocks to two way street because of two reasons 1) i had a change of mind. 2) i can.

Junmyeon would’ve thought Chanyeol would remember he hates surprises.

Save for movies, really, because who likes to be spoiled? But Junmyeon, as he walks inside Chanyeol’s bedroom, and Chanyeol, perfectly healthy and not deathly pale at all like Junmyeon expected him to be when he called, spread his arms happily and says, “Surprise!”

“I thought you were sick,” Junmyeon dumbly says, not knowing what to say.

“Well, I’m not,” Chanyeol cheerfully says, picking up the red velvet cake and holding it in front of Junmyeon’s face. “Happy birthday.” He leans forward, kissing Junmyeon on the cheek and not caring the fact his shirt was smeared by the cream cheese.

“There’s no candles,” Junmyeon says, looking at the cake. Not that he cared, really.

“I thought you hate candles,” Chanyeol replies. “The numbers reminds you that you’re a year older now.”

Junmyeon smiles, and nods. “I do.” He takes the cake from Chanyeol’s hold and place it on the bed, and wraps his arms around his neck, kissing him tenderly. “Thank you.” He says against Chanyeol’s lips, feeling him smiling.

“You’re welcome,” Chanyeol says.

***

It wasn’t a serious relationship, yet they managed to stay for a year anyway.

Chanyeol never asks. He doesn’t ask about what Junmyeon wants out of this relationship. Has never asked Junmyeon about his opinion on marriage and kids, never fussed about getting married even though they went to weddings more than they do on dates.

He’s good with kids. With every wedding they went to, Chanyeol always plays with the flower bearer, always dancing with the little girls. Junmyeon never joins in, he’s never been good with kids. So he sits at the table, watching as the little girl stumble on Chanyeol’s feet and apologizes, and Chanyeol would shake his head and keep on dancing anyway, meeting Junmyeon’s eyes and smiling.

It breaks his heart sometimes, though. How Chanyeol is so willing to go beyond to make other people happy. It unsettles him a little how Chanyeol would limp when they go to the car, his feet filled with red patches, even a scar from girls stepping their feet over his.

“You’re not obligated to make them happy,” Junmyeon chides as he put ice pack on Chanyeol’s feet.

Chanyeol laughs. “I’m not,” he says, for once agreeing with Junmyeon. “But it makes them happy, which in turn makes me happy too. Is that so wrong?”

“It’s not when they learn you’re not supposed to step on your partner’s feet when dancing,” Junmyeon grumbles as he starts the car. “Kids are clumsy. If you want to make someone happy go take the adult women who don’t have a date. At least their brain are developed enough to avoid stepping on your feet.”

“What’s with your newfound hatred towards kids?” Chanyeol asks, cocking his head aside.

Oh. He hadn’t tell him, did he? “I don’t hate kids,” Junmyeon says. “I just... find them annoying.”

Chanyeol is intrigued. “How annoying?” It feels like an interrogation. “Someone-take-your-parking-spot annoying, or I-will-burn-you-at-the-stake annoying?”

Well. Junmyeon would say the latter, but burning people at the stake is vile, and frankly, illegal. “Neither.”

“You hate kids!” Chanyeol is amused, smiling brightly as if he was a kid himself. “Oh, you do! I thought you were jealous, turns out you just hate them.”

“I don’t... _hate_ kids,” Junmyeon denies, because he doesn’t. Hate is such a strong word. He wouldn’t even say that to Luke from boarding school, who used to bully him relentlessly. “I just dislike them.”

Chanyeol wave dismissively. “Same thing,” he says, turning his body to Junmyeon, now focusing on him entirely. “So what would you do if we have kids?”

Junmyeon is more perplexed by the word _we _than he is on the words _have kids_. “We?”

Chanyeol seems to realize what he said, and settles back into his seat. “I – I mean, I’m not insinuating that we have kids – just, hypothetically – if, you know...” He looks down on his feet and shakes his head. “Sorry, can we just forget it? Let’s – let’s not talk about it, okay?”

***

They didn’t talk much about what happened on the way home, and Chanyeol is mostly quiet, not blabbering away like he always do. Junmyeon usually enjoys silence, especially when he rarely gets them nowadays since he’s dating Chanyeol, whose mouth runs in autopilot, but this time it’s a different kind of silence. It’s the type of silence they can’t enjoy, it’s the type of silence that is used as a defense mechanism to avoid the elephant in the room.

They arrived in front of Chanyeol’s building, and Chanyeol fumbles as he put on his socks, as if he was in a hurry to get out of the car.

He needs to say it. “I don’t want kids.”

Chanyeol looks up from where he’s tying his shoes. “Junmyeon...”

Junmyeon turns his head to look at Chanyeol’s face. “It’s not my dream – to be a father. It’s not that I hate children, or that I find them annoying. It’s just that, there’s always this part of me that has never been interested in having them. There’s no deeper explanation for it, I just literally don’t want it. I guess I just don’t want the burden and the responsibility that comes in taking care of another human being.”

“Okay.”

Junmyeon raise his eyebrows. “Okay?”

“Okay,” Chanyeol says, leaning in to kiss him on the cheek. “It’s okay. To be honest I never thought about kids that much either – I was just joking when I said that. I realized what I said must have made you uncomfortable. I’m sorry.”

It might be because of his trust issue, but Junmyeon isn’t entirely convinced that Chanyeol doesn’t think about kids. Nobody who pays zero mind to kids would be so willing to go very far to make them happy like he does. Still, he lets himself be deluded for one second that Chanyeol might have meant what he said, and nods. “Get some sleep,” is what he says instead.

“Call me when you get home?” Chanyeol asks, leaning in again to leave a feather light kiss on his lips, and Junmyeon nods. Chanyeol gets out of the car, and he waits until Junmyeon is out of sight.

***

They met when Junmyeon was covering the ER, and Chanyeol had come to pick up his friend after he’d gotten himself on an accident when drunk.

“Take good care of your friend,” Junmyeon had said before he left.

Chanyeol’s smile was bright. “Thank you, Doc.”

He came back the next day.

Maybe it was a coincidence, or maybe he knew it was lunchtime at the hospital, but Chanyeol flashed another bright smile when he sees Junmyeon, and Junmyeon was too exhausted from a surgery to even acknowledge, so he walked past his table. He only started to see it really was Chanyeol until the man himself walked up to his table.

“I wanted to thank you,” Chanyeol said. “For taking care of Baekhyun.”

“It’s my job,” Junmyeon said simply, refusing the offer. “It’s not like it was free.”

Chanyeol nodded. “Well, no,” he said in agreement. “But it’s not like I paid for the medical bill.”

“Shouldn’t it be your friend that treats me to lunch?” Junmyeon asked, stabbing his apple juice box with a straw. “Since he was the one I treated, not you.”

Chanyeol shrugged. “It never occured to him, I guess.”

Junmyeon tilt his head. “It never occured to him because it was a normal thing to do. Patients paid for their medical bills, and that’s it. There’s no law that says every patient should treat their doctors to a meal after they finish saving their lives.”

Most people would be offended, but Chanyeol still kept his smile, and asks, “So I take it that you don’t want to have lunch with me?”

But Junmyeon isn’t finished tearing him apart. “Do you want to have lunch with me because I saved your friend’s life, or do you want to have lunch with me because you’re attracted to me?”

Chanyeol’s smile vanished, taken aback by the sudden question. _Checkmate_. “I – well...”

“It’s a bit uncreative, isn’t it, using your friend as an excuse?” Junmyeon sipped on his juice. “You should’ve just said so right away. Though I’m a bit busy right now, so I have to turn down the very kind offer.” He stood up, snatching some of Chanyeol’s chips. “I’d say I’ll see you around, but I don’t know if you want to see me after the things I just said. Have a good day.” He had forgotten Chanyeol’s name at the time.

He didn’t see him again, not for another three months. Junmyeon has rejected numerous people in his life, so Chanyeol is not really somewhat memorable – Junmyeon quickly forgets about him as days pass.

Coincidentally, or maybe it isn’t a coincidence, but it was when he covered the ER that day when he met him again.

“It’s a hairline fracture,” Junmyeon said, writing the chart. “You’re going to be fine.”

“What’s a hairline fracture?”

“It’s a small fracture in the bone, caused by excessive stress on the bone,” Junmyeon answers, giving the chart to the nurse. “Did you fall often? A hairline fracture is usually caused overtime. Do you often break your fall with that hand?”

Chanyeol looked down, as if embarassed. “Well...” He shrugged. “I’m clumsy. I pushed back my chair often and well... you know.”

Junmyeon let out a small smile, amused. “I do,” he said. “Well, try not to push your chair back as often, or else you’ll be back with more serious injury. Hairline fracture heals by themselves, so you don’t have to worry.”

Chanyeol nodded. “Got it. Thank you, Doctor Kim.”

“You can go now. Get well soon, Chanyeol,” he said, waving to him as he walked away from his bed.

“Wait!”

Junmyeon turned around. “Yeah?”

“I’m going to ask you just this once, and I won’t bring it up if we ever meet again. This time I’ll be honest and try not to mask my intention. Do you want to get some drinks with me?”

Junmyeon tilted his head aside, pretending not to understand. “Why?”

“Do you really not understand, or are you just looking for ways to embarass me again?”

Junmyeon laughed. “Sorry. I do. I’ll pass on the offer though. I’m not interested.”

“Why?” Chanyeol asked. Junmyeon didn’t think that his eyes could get any bigger than it already is, but it does. “Did I do something to offend?”

Either Chanyeol never got himself rejected, or he doesn’t ask people out often. “The ER is very busy right now. If you could empty your bed, that’d be great.”

***

“Happy anniversary,” Chanyeol says, smiling as he leans down to kiss Junmyeon on the cheek. “Tired of me yet?”

Junmyeon lets out a breathy laugh. “I should be asking you that.”

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily,” Chanyeol says, cupping his cheeks. “Is it too early to say I love you?”

By other people’s definition of early, a year is probably too late to be saying I love you. He knows other people who has said I love you just two months ino a relationship – at least based on what he sees in their overly corny Instagram caption that makes Junmyeon cringe to his cereal bowl.

But that’s other people, isn’t it? But he doesn’t know the answer to that either. Is it the right time? Is it too late? Or is it too early? He has never been one to consider that. He never dated people long enough to be saying I love you to each other, or _yes_, he has, but he becomes so uncomfortable because he was unsure about how he feels that he ignored the guy for quite some time, feeling too guilty for not being able to reciprocate the word, or _the feeling_, and they broke up. They’ve been dating for seven months at the time, and it was the longest relationship Junmyeon has ever been in, before Chanyeol came along.

Junmyeon runs a hand through Chanyeol’s cheek, feeling the stubble rough against his skin because Chanyeol has been too busy to shave lately, and smile as he meets Chanyeol’s bright eyes. “I don’t know,” Junmyeon says honestly. “I love you too.” He mean it.

Chanyeol grins, leaning in to kiss him, properly this time.

Being with Chanyeol is different. It’s a good kind of different, but also a scary one. Being with him felt like being shipped into a whole new city, one that has never been included in a map nor the internet, where you know nothing and no one there. It’s like having to discover all over again, by feet, from a place to another. It’s having to try out something you’re not familiar with. Just like living in a whole new city, there’s a part of you that – maybe develop a new system within yourself that makes you adapting to a strange environment a whole lot easier. It’s like he has been repaired, and though a lot of the old him is still there, but some part of him has also been replaced. It might be the broken part, or something else. He doesn’t know.

Although he has to say, being with Chanyeol is arguably a lot easier than moving to a new city. That might just be because Chanyeol is so endlessly kind that he made it easier for him.

Chanyeol’s lips drags along his jaw and he stops thinking.

***

“I need to shave,” Chanyeol says as he looks into his phone camera. “The stubble makes me look like a homeless man.”

Junmyeon laughs, propping his head with his elbow. “Well, you make one sexy homeless man.”

Chanyeol grins at him, putting his phone back on the nightstand. “Enough to fuck me on the street?”

Junmyeon pretends to ponder about this. “Nobody is hot enough for me to fuck them on the street. I make a lot of money, though, so I’ll take you to Four Seasons and fuck you there.”

Chanyeol laughs, and Junmyeon lets his free hand roam through the stubble, a habit that he develops since Chanyeol kept his stubble for more than a day now. “Speaking of Four Seasons, though,” Chanyeol says after his laugh fades, “I know you’re not big on celebration, but would you like to take a weekend off and maybe we could spent it on Four Seasons? There won’t be chocolate covered strawberries or hot bubble bath – though we could make it ourselves if you want to, but I’ll make sure there will be champagne. How about that?”

Junmyeon smiles, leaning in to press his face against Chanyeol’s but not quite kissing him. “As long as you’re paying,” he teases.

“I thought you were the one who made a lot of money,” Chanyeol shoots back, kissing him deeply.

“Or we could pull a Debbie Ocean and con our way through the reservation,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol hums in agreement, pushing Junmyeon flat on his back while still kissing him. “We could do that.”

***

“Well you’re... happy,” Seulgi comments when he sees Junmyeon the next day. “That’s weird. I hope apocalypse isn’t near.”

“I wouldn’t say happy,” Junmyeon says, pouring coffee to the paper cup. “Pleased is the word I’d use.”

“Ah, yes, because being happy ruin this emo aesthetic that you got going on,” Seulgi says, pointing her pen to him. “I honestly don’t know if you’re physically allergic to being associated to being happy or are you just keeping this brooding dark personality so you’d look cool.”

Junmyeon narrows his eyes at her. “For a second I thought about offering you coffee, but I guess maybe not.”

“Oh, no please,” Seulgi says, shaking her head. “I quit caffeine. I’m exclusively drinking herbal tea now.”

“Two weeks of vacationing in LA and you already act like you were born and raised there,” Junmyeon shakes his head to his coffee cup. “Next time you’ll be doing yoga and promote aromatherapy on the surgery floor.”

“For your information, I did yoga _way_ before I visited LA, and aromatherapy is amazing,” Seulgi says.

“See? Very LA-like,” Junmyeon takes a slow sip of his coffee.

“How’s Chanyeol?”

Junmyeon raise his eyebrows at Seulgi as he sets the cup down. “I don’t remember ever telling you his name.”

“Oh come on, you don’t think I would’ve find out? At this day and age?” Seulgi incredulously asks. “He asked for you to me when you were in surgery. I should say, he might be a little bit disappointed that you never told anyone about him.”

A sharp pang of guilt hit Junmyeon’s heart, and he diverts his eyes to the bottom of his cup. “I like keeping my personal life separate from my workplace, that’s all,” he says, more like offering an explanation, really.

Seulgi shrugs. “We all do. But that kind of principle is best applied to patients, don’t you think? But doctors to doctors? We pretty much share both sides of our lives.”

But still. It’s nice to know he has personal life, one that not many people know. It’s not that he’s ashamed of Chanyeol, really there’s nothing to be ashamed about him – he’s kind and smart and has a decent job, and he’s handsome. It’s also not because of his sexual orientation. There’s never been an opportunity to introduce Chanyeol, because as much as he likes to hang out with his friends and Chanyeol, he much prefer to enjoy both sides separately. It’s more fun that way.

Chanyeol never brought it up, the fact that Junmyeon never brought him to his friends. Junmyeon doesn’t know what Chanyeol would’ve assumed to assure himself, but it hurts him that Chanyeol was disappointed, maybe a little hurt, that Junmyeon’s friends was completely in the dark when it comes to him.

“I’ll bring him if there’s ever a gathering,” Junmyeon says, more like to himself than he is talking to Seulgi.

Seulgi picks it up, though. “You don’t have to feel guilty about it. He didn’t make a big deal out of it, didn’t he? He probably understand. You’re a private person. I don’t think I’ve ever been to your apartment before. I don’t even know where the hell that is.”

But that’s just Chanyeol. Chanyeol has always been patient and understanding it always frustrates him. Sometimes it makes him grateful, other times it makes him guilty. Everyone has their limits, after all. Junmyeon often felt like he used up so many of Chanyeol’s grace over the past year it’s just a waiting point for him to see Chanyeol snap. But he never did.

***

Chanyeol doesn’t drive. At least not for the time being, as his car is still being repaired. And his workplace isn’t that far from the hospital, only two blocks away. So he waits for Junmyeon to get off so Junmyeon could drive him home.

He smiles when he sees Chanyeol in the parking lot, leaning against his car with his arms crossed. “Aren’t you cold?” Junmyeon asks.

Chanyeol grins, opening his arms. “Keep me warm, then.”

Junmyeon looks around the parking lot, not because this was the 30s where homosexuality is punishable by law, but because he doesn’t want to flaunt too much PDA.

“There’s no one here,” Chanyeol says, following his gaze.

“Sorry,” Junmyeon says, wrapping his arms around Chanyeol’s waist.

***

They stop for dinner at a Chinese place nearby Chanyeol’s building, and Junmyeon let him have the last spring roll, and this time Chanyeol let him, instead of pushing the spring roll to Junmyeon’s plate back and forth like they usually do.

Chanyeol also didn’t fight him when Junmyeon already pulled out his credit card to pay, just pushing his own card back into his wallet and waits.

“Seulgi asked about you,” Junmyeon says to start a conversation, because they’ve been on a complete silent mode throughout the car ride from the hospital, and they both don’t like to talk when they eat.

“Tell her I said hi,” is Chanyeol’s reply.

Junmyeon parks his car when he arrives at Chanyeol’s building, and turns his head to face him. “She told me that you were disappointed that she didn’t know about you,” the word leave Junmyeon’s mouth uneasily. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think –”

“I thought you were close with her,” Chanyeol cuts him off. “I know you don’t like talking about your personal life in your workplace, but how come not even your close friend know about me? She didn’t even know my name.”

“The subject never come up,” Junmyeon offers as an excuse, albeit it’s a shitty one. “She knows I don’t like talking about myself that much, so she never asked.”

Junmyeon doesn’t realize Chanyeol has been crossing his arms the entire time, a trait he usually does when he’s mad. Chanyeol sighs. “This is so stupid,” he murmurs under his breath. “I don’t know why I’m mad. I know you’re that kind of person, and I accept that, but I just don’t know why I’m still mad.” He lets out a forced laugh that makes Junmyeon’s heart sink even more. “I’m not – had you brought it up at any other time, I don’t think I would’ve been in a foul mood like this. But it’s just... I had a bad day today, and I guess it was triggered by the fact you have to take a look at the parking lot before hugging me. Like I said, at any other time it wouldn’t have bugged me, I know you don’t like PDA, but...” Chanyeol bite his lips, and Junmyeon knows he’s not done talking, he just doesn’t want to continue anymore. “I’m sorry. I had a bad day and I dump it all on you. What happened with Seulgi happened a long time ago, I’m not bothered by it. I just – I need to rest.” Even then, he still manage to give Junmyeon a smile. “I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”

Junmyeon swallows a lump in his throat. “Okay. Rest well, okay?” Junmyeon is about to lean in to kiss him but Chanyeol already left the car, closing the door a little too hard.

He didn’t wait for Junmyeon to leave the building this time. He just went in and didn’t look back.

***

At one am, Chanyeol calls.

Junmyeon isn’t asleep yet when he called, researching on EECP as an alternative to a CABG surgery for his upcoming solo procedure tomorrow. When Chanyeol’s name pops out in the screen, Junmyeon stares at the screen for some time before finally picking up. “Hello?”

“Oh,” Chanyeol says. “You’re not asleep.”

“So do you,” Junmyeon says. “Is something wrong?”

“No, no,” Chanyeol quickly says, and Junmyeon has a feeling that he’s shaking his head right now, judging by the rustling sound that he heard. “Don’t worry.”

“You’re not drunk, are you?”

Chanyeol chuckles, quietly, as if he’s afraid he’ll wake up someone else. “No.”

Junmyeon is getting impatient. “Then what is it?”

“What are you doing now?”

Junmyeon bit his bottom lip to prevent himself from sighing. “I’m doing some research for my upcoming solo procedure tomorrow.”

“Oh,” Junmyeon now knows why Princess Margaret was annoyed when Queen Elizabeth keep using the word ‘oh’ when reacting to a news that she delivered in that scene in The Crown. “I’m sorry. I’ll hang up. Don’t let me bother you.”

“You already called anyway, so just tell me what is it,” Junmyeon insists. “What’s going on?”

“I can’t go to sleep knowing that I probably hurt you from what I said before,” Chanyeol says, voice cracking. “I know I said sorry too much you’ll probably annoyed by now, but I am sorry. I shouldn’t have dumped everything to you. I didn’t mean to.”

Junmyeon leans back into his chair. “You didn’t hurt me,” Junmyeon replies. “And I’m not mad. Confused, but not mad. And it’s not like I’m completely innocent either – I also have things to apologize for, don’t you think?”

“I told you, I don’t mind,” Chanyeol says.

“Then I don’t mind either,” Junmyeon says. “Get some sleep, Chanyeol.”

“I love you.”

There’s a brief pause before Junmyeon says it back: “I love you too.”


	2. two years

Junmyeon honestly doesn’t know whether or not he should be happy or freak out.

Chanyeol looks nervous when he break down the news to Junmyeon. “I mean, you don’t have to go if you don’t want to,” he quickly says. “My sister just thought it’d be nice to get to know you.”

Junmyeon mindlessly fiddles with the sleeve of his shirt for some time before reaching to conclusion. “It’s okay, we can go,” Junmyeon says, meeting Chanyeol’s eyes. “It’d be nice to meet your sister too.”

Chanyeol’s smile is bright, and it makes Junmyeon realizes that _he _too, wanted Junmyeon to come. “Okay. I’ll... I’ll tell her,” he rose from his seat, leaving the room before turning back again, “You’re sure, right? I just don’t want to pressure you into anything.”

Junmyeon gives him a smile. “Yes, Chanyeol, I’m sure.”

***

There’s a wine store just three blocks away from Junmyeon’s apartment building, which was also the wine store he frequented. The owner is a nice Italian man whose life Junmyeon saved when he had a heart attack whilst he was in the store. Since then, Elio, the owner, often sent Junmyeon a bottle of wine every Thanksgiving, regardless whether or not Junmyeon actually celebrated the holiday.

Nobody turns down a free wine, after all.

“Special occasion?” Elio asks when Junmyeon pays for the wine.

“Something like that,” Junmyeon says, smiling as he’s giving his credit card to Elio.

The wine is expensive, a 1996 Cabernet Sauvignon – nothing out of his price range, and it’s Junmyeon’s favourite wine. He didn’t ask Chanyeol what’s his sister’s preference in wine, already knowing Chanyeol would strongly disapprove Junmyeon in bringing something.

This is proven to be true when Chanyeol frowns at the bottle of wine sitting at the backseat of the car, and Junmyeon’s didn’t turn his eyes away from the road. “It’d be rude to come empty handed,” he says, simply.

“You didn’t have to,” is what Chanyeol says.

“I wanted to.” Junmyeon says, and that’s the end of it.

Unlike Chanyeol’s broad figure, Yoora is more petite, that when she hugs Chanyeol, her entire body is swallowed by his. But their eyes are the same; the same doe, bright eyes, accompanied by the same warm smile.

“It’s so nice to meet you,” Yoora says, stretches her hand to shake Junmyeon’s. “You’ve been the topic of every one of our phone calls for the past month.”

Junmyeon smiles. “It’s nice to meet you too, Yoora.”

Yoora had just put the turkey in the oven by the time they arrived, so naturally Chanyeol come down to the kitchen to help. Junmyeon wanted to help too, but Chanyeol kissed his hair and whispers; “I won’t get anything done with you in the kitchen.”

“Oh, this is a very nice wine!” Yoora says when she holds the bottle, a cork in the other hand. “It must be expensive.”

“Junmyeon bought it,” Chanyeol says from the stove. “He’s got good taste in wine.”

Yoora’s eyes twinkle the same way Chanyeol’s does when he’s intrigued. “Really? Chanyeol never mentioned that.”

Junmyeon laughs. “Did Chanyeol really tell you everything about me?”

“Well, not everything,” Chanyeol says, putting the bowl of yam to the dining table.

“Still, this must be expensive,” Yoora says, eyes glued to the brand of the wine. “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to,” Junmyeon says. “Please don’t worry about it. It’s the least I could do.”

Yoora’s house is a very strange environment to be in. Junmyeon is an only child; he’s lived his entire life alone, his house is, well, figuratively cold. He rarely, almost never, celebrated Thanksgiving or any holidays of any kind. There was one or two occasions where his roommate from his boarding school took pity that Junmyeon is spending Christmas by himself in the dorm, so he took him to his parents’s house, which, again, is another very strange environment to be in.

It’s strange, perhaps because it wasn’t the sight that he used to see in his house. There was no quarrel between the siblings about their own preference in mashed potatoes, or one of the other fighting about who should set the table (which ultimately, is something that Junmyeon ended up doing, with Chanyeol protesting that he shouldn’t).

This was a whole kinds of different; this is warm and homey, and it made Junmyeon pity himself for the way he grew up.

***

There’s nothing intrusive in the questions Yoora asked to him, probably because she supposedly already knew everything about him from Chanyeol, and for that, Junmyeon is grateful.

“Chanyeol says you’re a surgeon,” Yoora says, passing the yam to Chanyeol. “What kind of a surgeon, exactly?”

“I’m still a surgical resident,” Junmyeon answers. “But my main focus is cardiovascular.”

Yoora raises her eyebrow and nods approvingly. “Wow, Chanyeol, you really score a big one.”

“Shut up,” Chanyeol says, but Junmyeon catch him smiling.

***

“So,” Chanyeol says when they are out of Yoora’s street, “what do you think?”

Junmyeon peels his gaze off the road to look at him. “About?”

“My sister,” Chanyeol answers with a laugh. “I mean, what do you think about her? Is she nice? She didn’t intimidate you, did she?”

“Ah,” Junmyeon says. “Yeah, it was really nice. Yoora too. She’s nice.”

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks, tilting his head aside. “You’re like a million miles away from me right now.”

Junmyeon contemplate whether or not it’d be a good idea to answer honestly, or just to dodge the question.

He chose to be honest.

“It’s just a new environment to be in, I suppose,” Junmyeon answers with a shrug. “Seeing you and your sister. You both got along really well. I guess you could call it strange, for me, at least. You know I’m an only child, and I grew up pretty much alone.”

“You went to a boarding school.” Chanyeol says, his voice soft.

Junmyeon smiles at Chanyeol’s direction. “You know what I’m talking about,” he says. “I’ve never celebrate a holiday before. My father wasn’t that type of parent. I don’t think I’ve ever celebrate my birthday before.”

Honestly, now he wish to take that back. He didn’t mean for it to sound so self-deprecating, but it was the truth. His father was a very busy man, he didn’t even come to see Junmyeon off at the airport when he went to England for boarding school. Now he knows what Tony Stark was talking about when he said the happiest day for his father was when he sent him off to a boarding school.

Just like Howard Stark, he supposed, his father’s happiest day might have been the day he announced he’s sending Junmyeon off to Eton.

Chanyeol’s hand is cold when he holds Junmyeon’s, and it’s even colder when Chanyeol lays his other hand on top of it.

“I don’t regret going to Eton,” Junmyeon says to repair the self-deprecating bit that he just said. “Proud of it, actually. I love the look I always get when I said I’m an Old Etonian. It’s a school most of the prime minister in England went to. Tom Hiddleston was my senior, can you believe it?”

He sees Chanyeol’s smile in his peripheral vision. “Was he handsome?”

Junmyeon gives Chanyeol’s hand a light squeeze before letting go. “Very.”

***

Junmyeon is, quoting from his ex boyfriend before Chanyeol, _“emotionally distant”._ It really is just a polite way of saying that he’s dead inside, but either way, he was right.

In his line of work, where death is inevitable, it was important to be distant, not to cry over someone’s death even if your mistake was the main cause of it. Because it’s a mistake, and you’re supposed to learn from your mistake, not to be traumatized by it forever.

When he was in Eton, his soccer coach used to say this whenever they lose a game; _crying wouldn’t have changed a thing_. He was a tall, fifty year old man who think boys that cries are pussies, and was always hostile toward Junmyeon because he’s an Asian kid with small figure and he wasn’t British, but at least there’s one thing they both can agree for once. That crying wouldn’t have changed a thing.

It might be because being emotionally distant is required in his line of work, or it might be because of his upbringing, but Junmyeon can’t really remember the last time he cried, or the last time he really showed to someone how he really feels inside.

His mind flew back to the time he caught his ex boyfriend in bed with someone else, his reaction being only to close the door and left the apartment. He didn’t return until the next morning to pack the rest of his stuff. He broke up by leaving an email that says their relationship are over, and Junmyeon blocked his number.

The breakup hurts him, but it didn’t hurt enough to make him cry. Seulgi revealed that she had anticipated if Junmyeon would suddenly cry, but was suprised that Junmyeon carried the past week without a single drop of tear, but Junmyeon also knew that crying over someone who cheated on him isn’t worth it, and it also _wouldn’t have changed a thing_.

“How come you didn’t cry when Mufasa died?” Chanyeol asks, his voice thick as he fumble for the tissue box. “Mufasa’s death is like, the saddest thing that ever happened.”

“It’s also fictional,” is Junmyeon’s answer. He rose from his seat, picking up the boxes of Chinese food on the coffee table, stuffing it inside a plastic bag and make his way to the kitchen to throw them away.

“Yes, and it’s also the saddest fictional death ever,” Chanyeol argues, picking up the used tissues on the floor, following Junmyeon to the kitchen. “You know, we’ve been dating for nearly two years now and I don’t think I’ve ever see, n you cry before.”

“I don’t cry that often,” Junmyeon says.

Chanyeol snorts at that. “More like never.”

Junmyeon snaps his head up to look at Chanyeol, who is standing across the kitchen table right now. “Is that a problem?” Junmyeon asks. “Do I have to bawl on the floor for you to realize that I actually _do_ have feelings?”

He could see how Chanyeol almost flinches at the tone of his voice. “I – I didn’t mean it like that,” Chanyeol says. “It was a joke, I’m sorry.”

“Yes, well I’m sick of that joke,” Junmyeon snaps. “I’m sick of people joking that I’m dead inside, I’m sick of people treating me like I’m a fucking robot. Just because I don’t show my feelings as good as you do doesn’t mean I don’t have one. Just because I don’t cry at some fictional character doesn’t mean I don’t cry at other things. It just means I know how to spill my tears over something that actually matter.” He throws his spoon against the sink, a spoon that he doesn’t even realize he’s been holding for the past minute. The noise it makes when it slams against the sink makes Chanyeol flinch, closing his eyes as if it was thrown at him instead.

“I know, Junmyeon, I’m sorry –”

“Do you know why you’ve never seen me cry for the past two years? Because I’m happy. You make me happy, and I have nothing to cry for when I’m with you. Why is that so hard for you to understand?”

“I know, and I’m sorry,” Chanyeol rushes to his side, reaching for his hand and Junmyeon involuntarily flinch at this, like he’s contagious. Chanyeol sighs at this. “Junmyeon, I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t realize I offended you and I didn’t mean to. What I said was stupid, I’m so sorry. Can we forget about this? Please?”

Junmyeon runs a hand through his hair before he takes a deep breath. “Okay,” Junmyeon says, and he glance at the clock hanging on the wall. “You should go home.” He’s fully aware Chanyeol is staying for the night.

“But I’m...” But Chanyeol nods instead of finishing his sentence. “Okay,” he nods. “I’ll... I’ll see you tomorrow?”

Junmyeon nods.

***

The light has already been turned off when Junmyeon’s phone lights up at a message.

_Chanyeol: Good night. Sleep well _ _<3_

Junmyeon turns his phone off.

***

The morning comes at a very slow pace, and Junmyeon is nursing a painful headache as soon as he wakes up in the morning. It’s the kind of headache that can’t be cured with neither caffeine nor Aspirin.

Chanyeol called while Junmyeon is still in the shower. He left a good morning text as soon as the call isn’t answered. Junmyeon doesn’t look at the message, and doesn’t call him back.

It’s a childish act, it truly is. He’s fully aware of that, but at the same time there’s some sort of satisfaction that comes along in letting Chanyeol know that he’s mad, even though last night he had claimed that he forgived him. Well, you know the saying, _I can forgive but I can’t forget._

The headache becomes more and more unbearable as soon as he arrived in the hospital and it becomes worse when his intern had messed up by giving him the wrong blood test result. Junmyeon had never been one to snap at his intern, but well, there’s a first time for everything.

“What’s up with you?” Kyungsoo asks during lunch break in the doctor’s lounge. “Rumor has it you’ve been a grumpy dwarf today.”

“Headache,” Junmyeon says, pouring himself a cup of coffee. He spared a side glance at Kyungsoo. “You’re back early.”

“Well, you know,” Kyungsoo gives a non-commital shrugs. “Judgmental family and all that. They keep asking when will I get married, and I don’t want to shock them by delivering a speech of how marriage is a scam.”

Junmyeon wouldn’t know how it feels like to be raised by a judgmental family, considering he never had any family in the first place. “Apparently it’s a scam your family want,” Junmyeon replies stoically. “I feel like I have a tumor suppressing my brain right now.”

“I can have you checked, if you want,” Kyungsoo says.

Junmyeon chuckles sarcastically. “And find out that I actually do have brain tumor and have to get surgery for it? No thanks, I’d like to die some place nice, not here.”

“I’ll have you checked in Fiji, then.”

Kyungsoo’s dry sense of humor might be the reason why he’s one of the handful of people Junmyeon can get along with, but even then he can’t be bothered to laugh because of the headache. Junmyeon lies himself on the couch, not even bothering taking off his white coat. “If I overdose from consuming a whole bottle of Aspirin please don’t revive me, it’s the only way I want to go.”

Kyungsoo doesn’t look amused, rather sympathetic, even. “Get yourself checked, or I’ll tell the chief on you and you’re getting benched from doing surgery.”

Junmyeon fakes a gasp. “I’ve never pegged you to be a tattletale.”

“Only because I’m worried about my good friend,” Kyungsoo answers sarcastically, stretching his feet on the couch, clashing Junmyeon’s feet with his. Junmyeon tries to fight him back, but ultimately gave up because Kyungsoo is stronger. “How’s Chanyeol, by the way?”

Junmyeon scowl at the question. Ever since Junmyeon brought him to Seulgi’s engagement party, everyone kept asking about him. Even Greta, his favourite scrub nurse, asked about him. And Greta become his favourite because she doesn’t talk too much.

“He’s fine,” Junmyeon answers, vaguely . “We had a fight, but it’s nothing a little silent treatment won’t fix.”

“A silent treatment never fix anything, you idiot,” Kyungsoo says, chuckling.

“Yes, well it works wonders for me.” It’s not, it really isn’t. A part of him is aching to talk to Chanyeol, to give him a call, but the other part of him – which is dominated by his big giant ego – told him that he should give it another day or so. And that part dominates the other one, apparently.

“I doubt any silent treatment ever work,” Kyungsoo says, just as Junmyeon’s phone vibrates in his pocket.

Junmyeon pulls his phone out, seeing Chanyeol’s name on the screen, accompanied with a monkey emoji, _because Chanyeol was born in the year of monkey_. Junmyeon stares at the screen until the call ends, leaving him with _2 missed calls from Chanyeol _appeared in his screen instead.

“And I’ve never pegged you to be someone who put cheesy emoji after their significant other’s name before,” Kyungsoo comments after Junmyeon put his phone back to his pocket. “Why didn’t you answer?”

“That was his doing,” Junmyeon says. “I’m too tired to have a conversation right now.”

“You’re not actually thinking that whatever it is you’re having with Chanyeol right now will be solved after radio silence, are you?” Kyungsoo asks, nudging Junmyeon’s feet with his. “Because that’s really fucking childish.”

Junmyeon turns his back on Kyungsoo. “Not the first time I’ve been called that before,” Junmyeon says. “Now go away and let me have my fifteen minute sleep before I sacrifice your body for academic purposes.”

***

Seulgi comes in the scrub room when Junmyeon was expecting Doyoung to come in.

“I asked for Doyoung,” Junmyeon says, starting to lather his hands with soap. “Why are you here?”

“You said that like you don’t like me,” Seulgi says, feigning offended. “I’m also a very good surgeon, you know.”

“Too good to be assissting, don’t you think?” Junmyeon says.

Seulgi shrugs. “Just wanna talk to my good friend,” she says nonchalantly. “How’s Chanyeol, by the way?”

Junmyeon turns his head to look at her. “Did Kyungsoo say anything to you?”

Seulgi looks at him too, her eyes twinkling with interest. “What thing?”

She doesn’t know. “Nothing,” Junmyeon says, rinsing the soap off his hands. “It’s nothing.”

“What is it?” Seulgi asks, rinsing her hands hurriedly to follow Junmyeon to the operation room. “Junmyeon Kim, what are you not telling me?”

“Nothing!” Junmyeon insists. “Why are you here anyway? Where’s Doyoung? He’s supposed to be assissting me on this procedure, not you.”

“Don’t know. I was bored, intimidate him into giving me this surgery,” Seulgi says, shrugging it off.

“That’s illegal.”

“You’ve done that to me many times when we were interns.”

True.

“Doesn’t make it any less illegal,” Junmyeon says, receiving the scalpel from the scrub nurse.

“You haven’t answered my question about Chanyeol.”

“Your obsession with him is the reason I’d gladly give him to you if we ever break up,” Junmyeon says, shaking his head at her. “You can date him.”

“I thought he’s gay.”

“Bi.”

“What did you and Kyungsoo talked about?” Seulgi hasn’t given up on the subject yet.

“Later.” He’s not gonna tell her later.

***

Junmyeon manages to narrowly escape from Seulgi as soon as the surgery finish, and it seems that she had forgotten about it too.

He makes his way to the parking lot, stopping on his way when he sees a tall figure waiting in front of his car.

Chanyeol.

He looks up just as Junmyeon stops.

He’s cold, evidence from how red his nose is and how he keeps biting his lip from the cold. Chanyeol always refused to dress up warmer, always refusing to wear a scarf until Junmyeon kisses him, wrapping the scarf around his neck in between the kiss.

“How long have you waited?” Junmyeon asks, feeling the guilt seeping into his heart like the water seeping inside his shoes on rainy days.

“I have two answers for that,” Chanyeol says. “If you’re asking me for how long I waited here, the answer is half an hour. If you’re asking for how long I waited for your calls, a day.”

Sometimes he forget that Chanyeol is a literature graduate and have a way with words. “I needed to clear my head,” Junmyeon says. “I’m sorry.”

“Then you should’ve said so!” He’s never heard Chanyeol raised his voice when they argue before. “I’ve waited all day long for your calls, I asked your friends if you were okay. Do you know how worried I was? I held myself back from calling you hundred times because I know you’d hate it. But you know what? I honestly wished I did, just so you’d get annoyed and answer. That way I would know you’re okay. How difficult it is just to answer me and tell me what you’re feeling right now?”

_Because I don’t know what I’m feeling, and I don’t know how to tell you_ is left unsaid. “I’m sorry,” is all Junmyeon can say, and he honestly feels genuinely shitty about this.

Chanyeol sighs. “Either way, I’m – I’m glad you’re okay,” he says, turning around and start leaving the parking lot.

“Where are you going?” Junmyeon asks.

“Home.”

“Chanyeol, don’t be ridiculous. You’re here, let me drive you home. It’s cold.”

“I’ll just call for an Uber, don’t worry.”

“Chanyeol...” Junmyeon sighs. “Please just get in. Let me drive you. Please.”

Chanyeol stares at him for what feels like a long time, and then he relents.

***

The car ride is silent, neither of them try to find a topic to talk about, and Chanyeol seems content to humming along to Nancy Sinatra’s song on the radio.

“I didn’t call because I was still mad,” Junmyeon says to start the conversation. “I don’t know why I’m still mad at you. You apologized. That should be it. But it isn’t. I’m sorry.”

He hears Chanyeol sighs beside him, and Junmyeon wonder if his life would ever stop revolving around people sighing around him. It’s depressing, and Junmyeon starts to think if dealing with him is depressing. He knows very well he can be quite difficult to deal with sometimes.

“And I’m sorry about that too.” Chanyeol says.

“We should stop apologizing, don’t you think?” Junmyeon says, turning his head to smile at him.

Out of his peripheral vision, he sees Chanyeol smile. “Yeah,” he says. “We should.”

When the car stops at a traffic lights, Chanyeol grab his hand, holding it with his and placing them on his thighs.

***

He stayed the night at Chanyeol’s apartment, though he never stayed the night at his place during work night before. But right now, in the comfort of Chanyeol’s sweater that is too big for him, and Chanyeol’s hand at his waist, Junmyeon is glad he didn’t refuse the offer.

“It took a fight for you to stay the night,” Chanyeol says with his eyes closed.

Junmyeon smiles fondly at him, gently brushing Chanyeol’s hair out of his cheek with his hand. “I’ve stayed the night before,” Junmyeon says. “Just not during work night.”

Chanyeol hums. “You won’t be late,if that’s what you’re so worried about,” he says, snuggling even closer to Junmyeon. “You have clothes here and you always wake up early no matter what time you sleep.”

“Well you don’t know the future,” Junmyeon says, stroking Chanyeol’s hair. “If I’m late tomorrow can I blame you for it?”

Chanyeol quietly chuckles, burying his face in Junmyeon’s neck. “Yeah,” he says. “You can.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> old etonian is the term for Eton College's alumni. if you spot any inaccuracy within the story, I'm so sorry! I did some research, but obviously when it comes to writing something real, it's always better to experience it beforehand. 
> 
> thank you for reading, if you do enjoy it, please give kudos and feedback! have a good day <3


	3. three years

Chanyeol spent so much time at Junmyeon’s apartment he practically lived here now.

He’s okay with it, really. He lives only five minutes away from the hospital, and the hospital is only two blocks away from Chanyeol’s workplace, which means that Junmyeon’s apartment is closer to his workplace than Chanyeol’s own apartment. Junmyeon doesn’t mind, how could he? He loves Chanyeol. He likes having him here.

It’s just the thought of Chanyeol living together with him that somewhat bothers him. Yes, he has lived together with his significant other before; but that lasted only for a month before he started to cheat on Junmyeon. And also, the past month they lived together still put Junmyeon in an uncomfortable situation. He has never been used to the fact that he now shares his life with someone else.

It’s funny though, considering he used to be in a boarding school, and in college, living in a dorm with a roommate is always something that you have to go through. But boarding school is different; you shared your life with friends, and there’s nothing you can do about it, really. It doesn’t make Junmyeon less uncomfortable at being so... exposed. It freaks the hell out of him, the thought of having to share his personal space with someone else. Yes, Chanyeol has stayed the night before, but then he goes home after. If Chanyeol live here, then where would he go, since his home is also here?

It didn’t help that Chanyeol has such a close relationship with his family which means that visits from his family is inevitable. For the past two and a half years Junmyeon has succeed in avoiding seeing his parents too often. He’s met Chanyeol’s parents before; they are both lovely, open-minded individuals that accepts Junmyeon’s presence with open arms. Especially Chanyeol’s mother. The woman couldn’t get any kinder.

He met them on holidays, but Chanyeol’s parents have been known to visit unexpectedly. Junmyeon could sit in Chanyeol’s living room watching a movie when Chanyeol suddenly storms from the kitchen and starts tidying the room, saying “my parents are coming”.

(And then he would later made a phone call to Kyungsoo begging him to call him in for something to avoid meeting them).

The first time Chanyeol found out Junmyeon has been doing that, they had a fight.

“My parents have been nothing but nice to you,” Chanyeol said. “Why do you dread the idea of meeting them so much that you had to lie to me?”

What was he supposed to say? Giving an excuse would make the fight worse. He doesn’t know why he dread the idea of meeting Chanyeol’s parents either. He’s right; they’ve been nothing but nice to him. It was just that, well, just because they’re lovely people doesn’t mean Junmyeon want to see them in his personal life so often. He saw Chanyeol’s parents more often than he saw his own father when he was a kid.

“I’m sorry,” Junmyeon said. “It’s just that... I’m not good at this kind of thing. Meeting your parents just made it seem like our relationship is so... serious and official, it’s like we’re getting married or something.”

Chanyeol raised his eyebrows, and Junmyeon wished he could take his words back. Very poor choice of words. “You don’t think what we have right now is a serious relationship?”

_Well, no_. “Of course I do. It’s just... you know what I mean, right? It’s just a bit of a burden to me, having to always entertain your parents during their stay here. I like them, but I’ve never met the parents of the people I’m dating before. I don’t know what to do everytime they’re here, and I have to be so careful at what I do so I don’t leave a bad impression on them.”

“Yes, but my parents aren’t some frequent to a local theatre, and you’re not a stage actor. You have no obligation to entertain them. You just have to be polite to them. I’m sorry if they made you feel pressured, but they’re lovely people and I enjoy their frequent visits. I don’t want them to visit less often because of this.”

That’s not what he wanted either. It’s obvious that Chanyeol loved his parents very much, and it made Junmyeon envy him sometimes, how Chanyeol’s mother never stopped doting on him despite Chanyeol being twenty-six years old. It envy him that Chanyeol has a lot to talk about with his father. It’s such a contrast to the life Junmyeon has when he was a boy, as he was always alone during that time.

“And I don’t want you to do that either,” Junmyeon rest his hand on top of Chanyeol’s. “I know you love it when your parents visit, and I’m happy for you. But the way we grew up is very different, and this isn’t the stuff that I’m used to seeing. It makes me uneasy. I don’t want you to forbide your parents from seeing you; all I’m saying is that I need you to understand that I can’t see them everytime they come here. I need my own space. Just like we don’t always see each other on weekdays. That’s not... too much to ask for, right?”

Chanyeol sighed. “Of course it’s not,” he said, holding Junmyeon’s hand. “I’m sorry. I just want you to like them.”

“I do,” Junmyeon reassured him. “I do like them. Very much.”

***

Chanyeol has been hinting that he wants to move in together, and everytime he did that, Junmyeon would pretend he’s some idiot who doesn’t understood the underlying meaning of Chanyeol’s words.

“Don’t you think you need a bigger drawer?” Means, _“you should spare me some more space in your drawer, because I’m going to move the rest of my clothes here.”_

“Can you also get me Cinnamon Toast Crunch?” Means, “_I ate my breakfast here so often you might as well get me my favourite cereal.”_

“I’m too tired to go home.” _I want to live here, you idiot, ask me to move in with you!_

It feels like both of them are playing a game. Chanyeol plays a game where he vaguely hints he wants to move in, and Junmyeon, aware of it all, is also playing a game of rejection. He casually answer that the size of the drawer fit him just fine, he buys Chanyeol his Cinnamon Toast Crunch, he let Chanyeol stay the night. Chanyeol never outright ask him, and Junmyeon is relieved and worry at the same time. He worries that someday the question will pop out of nowhere and Junmyeon will be so taken aback he’ll say “No” blatantly and hurt Chanyeol’s feelings.

“Baekhyun asked me to help him pack tomorrow,” Chanyeol says when they have dinner that night. He doesn’t look at Junmyeon while saying it, focusing his gaze on the spaghetti on his plate instead. “He’s moving in with his girlfriend.”

Junmyeon is not sure if he’s hinting or if he’s trying to say he can’t go to IKEA with Junmyeon tomorrow. “Okay,” Junmyeon wipes his mouth. “So that means you can’t go to IKEA with me tomorrow?”

Chanyeol looks disturbed by his answer, and Junmyeon concludes the correct answer to his doubt. It’s the former. “Junmyeon,” he looks up at Junmyeon, putting down his fork. _This can’t be good, _Junmyeon thinks. “Do you really not understand, or are you just pretending?”

He’s busted, yes, but Junmyeon is still putting up a confused look. “Understand what?”

“That I want to move in!” Chanyeol says frustratedly. “I’ve been giving hints I want to live with you for months now! How can you not tell?”

“How would I know? You’re not exactly holding a banner that says _‘Let me live here with you’ _ everytime you talk.”

Chanyeol stares at him for a while before he talks. “Okay,” He says. “Junmyeon, I want to move in with you.”

This is the moment that he’s been dreading for months. He should have said no when Chanyeol says he wants to have dinner together. He should have stayed at the hospital, hiding in the on-call room.

Chanyeol is watching him right now, carefully, as if trying to figure out what Junmyeon is feeling right now. “So?”

“You want to move here,” Junmyeon says. “With me.”

“Yes.”

How should he say this without possibly hurting his feelings and damaging their relationship? It’s practically impossible. “Chanyeol, I’m not...” His grip on his fork tighten. “I don’t think we can live together just yet.”

The enthusiast in Chanyeol’s face fades, and Junmyeon’s heart ache seeing that. “Okay,” he says. “Why?”

Why, indeed. Junmyeon also doesn’t understand why he doesn’t want to live with him just yet. They’ve been dating for three years and a half. Most people move in together a year or two into their relationship. Some even less than that. Baekhyun is moving in with his girlfriend after a year dating.

“I’m not ready,” He’s well aware of how familiar his answer is. This is the answer every commitment phobe uses. It’s also the answer he often use in his past relationships.

“Not ready for what? Junmyeon, I practically live here. I left my perfume here. There’s a couple of my shoes in your wardrobe. I brought my favourite candle here, the candle that I always lit in my apartment. I see your apartment more often than I see mine, I don’t know how it looks like right now.”

“But that’s the thing. You, bringing the stuff that’s belongs in your apartment to mine. It’s what terrifies me. Sharing a space with someone terrifies me. I’m fine with you staying the night because I know you’ll be going to your own home afterwards. I don’t like the idea of no longer having my own space, and I know that’s selfish. I love you, and I love dating you, but I also love the idea of being alone, even if it’s just for a few days or a few hours. It’s why I never got mad when you didn’t call me when you’re on trip with your family at Christmas. It’s why I’m fine whenever you take a rain check for our date. It’s because I’m used to being alone, and I like it. I love the idea of sharing everything with your significant others, but I can never do that, even with you, because no matter how much I love you, sharing personal space is something I can never do, not even with the help of therapy.”

“So you’re saying you love your personal space more than you love me,” Chanyeol concludes.

Junmyeon frowns. He doesn’t want to admit that it’s true, but maybe it is. Maybe he does love it more than he loves Chanyeol. Because personal space is something you can never lose, but losing Chanyeol is somewhat inevitable, especially with so many difference that they have. Somehow, there’s always this part of him that says, _enjoy while it lasts._

“Maybe I can do it,” Junmyeon says instead to prevent from further breaking his heart. “Maybe I can learn how. But it’s not now.”

“Then when?” Chanyeol sounds desperate. “If not now, when?”

_I don’t know_.

***

Seulgi is a good friend. She’s kind, funny, and caring. But it can get a little hard to share things with her, mostly because they view things differently. While Junmyeon rarely does share personal details about his life, he knows that just how different their life is. Seulgi is a hopeless romantic; Junmyeon is a realistic and downright skeptic.

So that leave Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo is the straight man of their friendship; Junmyeon has seen, and heard him do romantic things for his girlfriend, but he’s also realistic enough not to believe that love conquers all. After all, he still refused to marry his girlfriend simply because he doesn’t have the money to. (_“Yes, I love Jihyun, but all of the money that I have goes to paying off my student loan, and last time I check you can’t pay wedding organizers using the love that you have for your wife.”)_

The main point is that he’s not looking for someone that he knows will side with him. He’s looking for someone that can look at things in his perspective and can respect his choice instead of giving him a romcom-esque advice.

“Got a second?” Junmyeon asks Kyungsoo, sitting down on the couch beside him.

Kyungsoo narrows his eyes at him. “It’s lunch break.”

Junmyeon shrugs. “Lunch break doesn’t mean a break from being busy.”

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. “God, if you wanna talk, stop beating around and tell me before I’m actually busy.”

“Okay, well,” Junmyeon straighten himself up, as if bracing himself. “I had a talk with Chanyeol a few days ago. About moving in.”

“You meant he asked if you want to move in together,” Kyungsoo says.

“Yes,” Junmyeon nods. “He’s been dropping hints, but I’ve been sort of ignoring it. Partly, or mostly, really, because I’m not ready. I know it’s unbelieavable, since we’ve been together for three years. But time isn’t an issue here. I am. I’m not ready to commit, to share my space with someone else. And I don’t know why, but I’m just not ready. Probably because I grew up without siblings so I never learn how to share, and I also live a very pampered life, or maybe I’m just like this deep down. Maybe one of my parents inherited this trait to me, I wouldn’t know, I hardly ever see them.”

There’s a long pause that follows after this, and Junmyeon thinks maybe he should’ve shared this to a $500/hour shrink instead. Sharing problems that can’t be solved with a scalpel with surgeons are useless, after all. A shrink would know how to handle this. Or maybe they could prescribe him to some magical pills that would make him know the answer to everything.

Kyungsoo breaks the silence with a long sigh, signaling that he has given up searching for advice. “I don’t know, really,” he says, just like Junmyeon expected. “Relationship is like a two way street, and making decision is like crossing them. In order to cross the street safely, you need to make sure both streets are clear from any difficulties that might come. I think that in a relationship, being a little selfish is okay. That decision will determine your happiness anyway, and you need to think whether or not it will benefit you in a long run. If you move in with Chanyeol even though you’re not ready, on the ground that you don’t want to hurt him or your relationship, I do think somewhere along the way when things aren’t going well, you’re going to resent and blame him for any unhappiness that might come.”

Not even a $500/hour shrink could say something this good and true, and yet here is Kyungsoo providing it for free. “I thought you said you didn’t know.”

Kyungsoo shrugs, smiling smugly. “Come to think of it, I think there’s a reason why I chose neuro as a specialty. I understood human brains better than I did any other part of their body.”

“You didn’t say this because you think it’s what I would’ve liked to hear, right?” Kyungsoo’s speech may succeed in rendering Junmyeon, well, _speechless_, but if he only said it because he thought Junmyeon would’ve liked it, he could do without the advice.

Kyungsoo scowls. “Of course not. Do you really think I would waste a few minutes of my life delivering that speech when I don’t believe in it?”

***

“Are you sure you’re gonna be okay?” Chanyeol asks, face contorts in worry as Junmyeon takes off his shoes.

“Yes, Chanyeol, I’ll be okay, I already took the medication,” Junmyeon says as a bark fills in Chanyeol’s living room, and the sound of jingle follows after as a dog comes running at them. Junmyeon smiles, crouching down to the floor and pet him on his head. “What’s his name again?”

“Toben,” Chanyeol answers, hanging his coat. “Taken from Beethoven.”

“And what’s his breed?”

“I don’t know, Portuguese something,” Chanyeol shrugs. “You’re okay, right? If you sneeze even once I’m taking you to the hospital.”

“You worry too much,” Junmyeon picks up the dog, scrunching his face at him. “I’ve always wanted a dog.”

“Allergy sucks, huh,” Chanyeol says, sitting down beside him to rub Toben’s tummy.

“Well, yes,” Junmyeon says. “But medications exist. I could’ve taken them. My dad just doesn’t like dogs because they make too much noise. Said they’d disturb his work.”

“Your dad was really detached to anything, didn’t he,” Chanyeol muses.

“You have no idea,” Junmyeon says, smiling despite himself. “It’s fine. He could’ve been worse. He didn’t.”

“You love him,” Chanyeol says, looking at him intently.

“Can’t love someone if I don’t know who they are,” Junmyeon says. “Just grateful for him, I guess. He tries his best to provide me with the best quality education. I never suffered financially. He seemed more like a benefactor than a father, though.”

Chanyeol still stares at him, and then he move closer, cupping Junmyeon’s cheeks, pulling him into a kiss.

There’s nothing intense about the kiss; no fiery passion or tensions is exchanged. The kiss is innocent, feather-light. It still leave him breathless nevertheless.

“What was that for?” Junmyeon asks when he pulls away.

“Nothing,” Chanyeol says, smiling from ear to ear. “You just look kissable when you’re talking about your life.”

Junmyeon bet he won’t be as kissable if he talk about his trauma, but he smiles at Chanyeol. “Well,” he says, climbing into Chanyeol’s lap. Chanyeol’s arms wraps around his waist almost immediately, like an impulse. “You look kissable anytime, if that makes sense?”

Chanyeol grins, catching Junmyeon’s lip with his. “Hmm,” he says. “That makes sense.”

***

Junmyeon stares at the copy of his apartment’s key in his palm. He got it duplicated just thirty minutes ago, and he hasn’t been able to stop staring at it ever since he got it.

It’s been exactly two months since the whole moving in fiasco. Neither of them liked to talk about it, and it seems as though Chanyeol had given up on the subject completely.

Junmyeon had never been one to give someone a suprise, being himself not liking it, so it does concern him that Chanyeol might think this is a surprise. Not that it’s a bad thing, really.

The doorbell rings, and Junmyeon put the key on his coffee table to open the door. Chanyeol had promised to brought pizza for dinner on his way from work.

“Someone tried to cut his way on the queue and you best believe I knocked the bastard out,” Chanyeol says, putting the pizza box on the dining table. “Hi.” He says, his tone gentle as he pecks Junmyeon on the cheek. “How’s your day?”

Junmyeon is unsure whether or not he should respond to Chanyeol’s story about him knocking a person out. “Good,” Junmyeon says, passing a plate to Chanyeol. “Nothing exciting.”

“Really? No story about patients running away? Eating before surgeries? Interns so dumb they mixed blood tests?” Chanyeol asks, licking a ketchup off his fingers.

Well, his dumb intern did mixed up some CT scans. “It’s the same old story. You’ve heard it before.” Junmyeon waves dismissively.

Chanyeol stops eating, staring at Junmyeon for a little while. Junmyeon pretends not to notice, picking up a slice of pizza.

“Are you okay?” Chanyeol asks. “You don’t seem focused.”

“Everything’s fine,” Junmyeon says, though it’s a blatant lie. “Don’t overthink. That’s usually my job.”

“I don’t overthink,” Chanyeol says. “Just worried.”

“That too.”

Chanyeol doesn’t push the topic, for which Junmyeon is grateful. They continue their dinner in silence, with Chanyeol occasionally whining for accidentally biting an onion in his pizza even after five minutes of carefully picking them off.

“You should stay,” Junmyeon says after they finished washing the dishes. Chanyeol hadn’t made any implications that he was gonna stay the night, but judging from how he was glancing at the clock it’s clear he isn’t. Chanyeol is a textbook, it’s easy to read him. “The night. I mean stay the night.”

Chanyeol raise his eyebrows. “Oh?” he says, suprised. “Okay.”

The key that’s been hanging heavy in Junmyeon’s pocket has suddenly become light when he holds it in his hand. “Here’s your key,” Junmyeon says, handing it to Chanyeol, whose eyebrows couldn’t get any higher. “You can move in. I’m sorry it took so long, and if you no longer want to live here it’s fine, but just keep the key for emergencies.”

“You want me to live here,” Chanyeol says. “With you.”

“Yeah.”

Chanyeol’s smile is so bright when he took the key from Junmyeon’s hand, and when he gathers him in his arms, kissing him so deep and fervently, Junmyeon could feel the smile forming on his lips. Junmyeon close his eyes, locking his arms behind Chanyeol’s neck and kiss him back in the same manner.

“I do have a few things to say, though,” Junmyeon says when they pull away.

Chanyeol nods. “Okay,” he says. “Shoot away.”

“I still want to do the laundry alone,” Junmyeon says. “And I still like to get groceries by myself, occasionally. I’ll tell you when and you can text me the stuff that you need. I still don’t like being interrupted when I shower, even if we’re separated by the curtains and you’re just there to brush your teeth. I’ll try to wake up earlier since we’re sharing the same bathroom. I won’t bother you when you cook, but in turn I don’t need help washing the dishes. And if I fall asleep on the couch, just put a blanket over me and don’t wake me up.”

“But you’ll hurt your neck if you sleep on the couch,” Chanyeol argues. “And not getting groceries together? Do you not know getting groceries with your significant other is like, the most romantic thing ever?”

“Note the word occasionally, dear,” Junmyeon says, patting Chanyeol on the chest. “And you underestimated the comfort of my couch. There’s a reason why that’s the second most expensive furniture in this apartment.”

“What’s the first?”

“The bed.”

“Fine,” Chanyeol says. “I won’t wake you up in case you prefer the comfort of the second most expensive furniture in your apartment, which may I add, lacks the space one should have when they’re sleeping, rather than the comfort of the bed, which is the most expensive furniture here, and may I also add, there’s also me, your boyfriend, sleeping in it.”

Junmyeon grins, brushing his hand against Chanyeol’s cheek. “I’ll let you move me to the bed if you can carry me without waking me up.”

“I’ll carry you right now.” Chanyeol grabs his knees, carrying him bridal style to the bedroom.

The apartment is usually quiet, even with Chanyeol there, save for times where they had sex, but right now, with Chanyeol carrying him bridal style, as if they just got married, it’s noisy, filled with both of their laughter. Junmyeon would worry that the neighbours might hear them, but _their_ apartment is soundproof, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you for reading! as always if you enjoy do leave a comment & kudos! <3


	4. four years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so expensive i'm broke just writing it
> 
> also warning: excessive use of the word pretentious

Ever since they moved in, they made it clear that Friday night is their movie night. Work kept both of them busy, especially Junmyeon, who often get called in for emergencies. Weekends are the time where they can be together, and they try to cherish it as much as possible.

Moving in has been a great experience. Junmyeon doesn’t wonder why he didn’t do it sooner, because he knows he needs that extra assurance that it really is a good choice, and it is. He likes falling asleep to Chanyeol and waking up to him every single day. Likes that Chanyeol is in the kitchen, making breakfast. He likes holding hands with him in the grocery store, while their other hand is pushing the trolley. And he never thought he’d like arguments, but sometimes arguing with Chanyeol about what brand of detergent is better is nice. It felt domestic and somewhat romantic. It amuses him how both words used to be something that makes him anxious, yet with Chanyeol, it feels... nice.

It feels right.

“You know, the rock, paper, scissors system is totally unfair. You get to pick movies for two weeks in a row because of it, and none of the movies you picked is something that is worth watching,” Junmyeon says, glaring at the movie reviews for _Die Hard with Vengeance_. “This has 52% on Rotten Tomatoes.” He shows Chanyeol the website.

Chanyeol doesn’t pay attention to the screen. “Okay, the next two weeks you’ll choose the movies, and then we can just take turns,” Chanyeol says. Junmyeon smiles at this, which in turn, makes him smile too. “Oh, look at you, all smug.” He teases, and Junmyeon pinch him on his shoulder, and Chanyeol dramatically groans.

Chanyeol likes Die Hard movies, which is why he’s paying a great deal of attention to it, while Junmyeon spaces out. He likes action movies just as much he likes his rotation is urology. He just want it to be over with.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and Junmyeon sees a text. The name that displays on his phone screen put him to a small smile, and his smile grows even bigger when he sees the content of the text.

_Hey, I’m back in town right now. Let’s meet up for dinner? It’s been so long_

It didn’t take him a second thought to reply a _yes_.

“What are you smiling about?” Chanyeol asks, nudging Junmyeon’s shoulder with his.

“My friend just went back into town,” Junmyeon says, tapping his finger on his thigh impatiently, waiting for a reply. “You know Sehun. My friend from college.”

“Ah, the model,” Chanyeol has never met Sehun yet he always says his name with disdain, like modeling is some kind of odd job. He sounds like a baby boomer when he does that, but Junmyeon never made it known to him.

“Yes, Chanyeol, the model,” Junmyeon says. “You know, if you know him you’ll like him. He’s great, not at all pretentious like I know you thought of him.”

Sehun’s reply comes. _Great, _Sehun replies. _I’ll see you Saturday night at Balthazar? Can’t wait. I’ve missed you, _is his second replies.

“I never thought of him as pretentious,” Chanyeol pouts, eyes still glued on Junmyeon’s phone. “Balthazar? Isn’t that the pretentious French restaurant you liked?”

Junmyeon glares at him again. “You know, you seem to like labelling anything or anyone as pretentious these days.” He types a _yes _as a reply, setting his phone down on the coffee table.

“Well, Balthazar _is_ pretentious,” he pouts again, this time his eyes are focused on the TV. “So, you’re seeing him Saturday night?”

“_We_ are seeing him Saturday night,” Junmyeon corrects him, making Chanyeol cringe. “Come on, you haven’t even give him a chance. How can you tell he’s pretentious just by looking at his choice of restaurant? I like that place, are you calling me a pretentious too?”

Well, even if Chanyeol said yes, it won’t offend him nor will it be the first time Junmyeon get called that. He’s heard the word being used to describe him by Kyungsoo and Seulgi before.

“Of course not,” Chanyeol says, trying to make his voice sound as neutral as possible. “Okay, fine. I’ll meet him.”

***

He knows that Chanyeol only agreed to come because Junmyeon told him to, and Junmyeon also knows that it meant Chanyeol doesn’t want to come at all. And if Chanyeol doesn’t want to come at all, that means he will not put an effort to what he’s wearing, as some kind of rebellion to Junmyeon, as if he’s still an eleven year old who would rather play with his Nintendo than meet his relatives at Thanksgiving dinner.

Balthazar isn’t a luxury pretentious restaurant where they demanded a dresscode, but Junmyeon would’ve thought Chanyeol had the courtesy to actually wear anything that isn’t a fucking_ hoodie_.

It isn’t even a hoodie that comes from a fancy streetwear brands, it’s a hoodie from his college. He’s wearing a black hoodie with his university name embroidered on it.

“You’re wearing a hoodie,” Junmyeon says when he sees Chanyeol boredly leans against the wall. Junmyeon had told him to wait before he enters.

“You didn’t tell me there’s a dresscode,” Chanyeol replies sarcastically.

“There isn’t,” Junmyeon says. God he should’ve spared the time to come home first so he can make sure Chanyeol isn’t going to embarass him in his journey of showing his lack of interest in meeting Sehun. “Chanyeol, a simple white t-shirt and a denim jacket would’ve done it.”

“Okay, should I go home and change?” Junmyeon doesn’t appreciate the sardonic tone in Chanyeol’s voice at all. “I’d be glad. Or should I maybe just change to my pyjama and go to bed? That sounds like fun.”

Junmyeon bite his lip in an effort to restrain himself from yelling. He takes a deep breath. “Fine. Let’s just go inside. I don’t want to make Sehun wait for too long.”

“Course you don’t,” Chanyeol mutters under his breath, but Junmyeon ignores it.

Despite the fact that Junmyeon can barely contain his anger towards Chanyeol, he is excited to meet Sehun. The last time he saw Sehun, Junmyeon was still in medical school, and Sehun had come home for his grandfather’s funeral. After college graduation, Sehun made it his ambition to be a fashion model in Paris and moved away almost immediately. He rarely comes back, only for fashion week, and their schedule always clashes. And now that they can actually meet, Junmyeon is excited.

The last time Junmyeon saw him, Sehun’s hair is still raven black, and now the man that stood before him now has tangerine hair. His hair is cut a bit shorter, and he’s wearing a silk olive green shirt with a small, black belt that Junmyeon know is none other than _the_ Gucci belt.

“You haven’t grown at all,” Sehun remarks when Junmyeon hugs him. He laughs at this, pinching Sehun on his arm. “It’s so nice to see you. The last time I saw you, you were still a third year med student constantly stressed out.”

He still is, stressed out. In fact, he is right now. “Well, here I am now,” Junmyeon says instead. “Sehun, this is Chanyeol, my boyfriend.”

Sehun is always known for his fashion sense, even back in college. It didn’t help that he’s a trust fund baby either. But Junmyeon can see the difference now; he used to bluntly and heavily criticize people for their outrageous choice in clothing, and Junmyeon knows if he knew Chanyeol he would have tear him into shreds, but he doesn’t show his disdain towards Chanyeol’s fashion sense, instead he flashes a charming smile and shakes Chanyeol’s hand. “Ah, you’re the very lucky guy,” Sehun says, his voice is bright, and so is his smile. “It’s lovely to meet you.”

Junmyeon wished Chanyeol would’ve put at least a little bit of smile. It’s the least he could do. “Yes, I am,” he sounds bored already.

Sehun looks at him, and Junmyeon shakes his head, and Sehun immediately understood, dropping the subject. “I hope you don’t mind, but I ordered a bottle of wine already,” Sehun says.

“Oh, yeah?” Junmyeon says, draping his coat onto the chair. “What did you order?”

“A Cabernet Sauvignon,” Sehun says with a meticulous French accent, grinning. “Do you remember when we were freshman and we came to my house and stole a wine from my father’s liquor cabinet?”

Junmyeon smiles. “It’s lucky your parents weren’t aware of that.” Sehun’s parents hardly come home. They didn’t even realize that a bottle of wine worth almost 700$ is missing from their cabinet. The difference between the household Sehun grew up in is that he is in a good contact with his parents, and they always make sure to come home during holidays. Junmyeon’s father doesn’t even care if he’s home on holidays.

“Can we order?” Chanyeol interrupts.

Junmyeon restrain himself from glaring. “Why, we can order indeed,” he says mockingly, raising a hand to call for the waiter.

***

“The most annoying thing about actually having contacts with the designer I’m modelling for, is my cousins asking me if that means they could show my picture with the designer on retailer so they could get a discount,” Sehun says, sipping his wine graciously. “What do they expect? I’m not some kind of executive for the brand, I model for them for time to time, I just did what I had to do to pay my rent.”

Talking about their experience with meeting designers can sound tacky and arrogant, but Sehun somehow makes it look okay. It’s like hearing someone who works for retail, and not a famous model. Junmyeon is aware that ever since graduation, Sehun has always tried to not live off his parents, like any other rich, privileged kids would’ve done, yet he is still unable to live off the fact that if he works 9-5 jobs he would never be able to afford luxury brands. It’s somewhat refreshing to see just how someone can be so deep yet shallow at the same time.

“I’m sorry to interrupt, but Junmyeon mentioned you had a trust fund,” Chanyeol says, finally opening his mouth for something that isn’t eating. “And your parents are rich. Why do you need to worry about rent?”

Junmyeon would’ve rather he kept eating. “Sehun moved to Paris to focus on modelling after graduation without his parents help,” Junmyeon tries to pacify the situation. Sehun has never been one to get enraged when someone mentioned his family’s wealth. Everyone who comes from privileged background heard this type of question thrown around at them countless of times.

“I can’t live off my parents forever, can’t I, Chanyeol?” Sehun says, smiling at him. “I don’t know if you know this, though, but people who were born from rich parents went through the same phase of adulting. Yes, I have a trust fund, but if I graduate it’s just the same as anyone; I have to go around looking for a job. Just like you and any other people here. Don’t let Junmyeon mentioning me moving to Paris means I immediately got my big break; I worked as a waiter for a cafè because nobody wants to hire an Asian model who can barely spoke French. I’ve been yelled at by French people because I didn’t understood what they were saying. I’ve been called racist remarks. I went through a hard time too, Chanyeol, and it may not be as hard as your experience, but it’s still a hard time all the same.”

He definitely didn’t expect that. Sehun never explained himself to anyone before, always feeling like people aren’t worth the time for it.

France, and eight years apart really changed him. In a good way.

Chanyeol looked almost ashamed, and as horrible as it is, Junmyeon is glad. Chanyeol always had somewhat a preconceived notion towards privileged people; he always thinks they don’t know what it means to work hard and the hardest thing they have ever done is to make sure they woke up early for their plane to Bahamas. Junmyeon can’t blame him, though it did offend him when he knew, as Junmyeon was born from a privileged life yet didn’t have any of that.

Sehun looks angry, and for a good reason. Junmyeon place a hand on top of his, not caring if Chanyeol sees. “You told me you moved into a new apartment,” Junmyeon says, changing the subject to lift the tension. “How are you liking it?”

It takes Sehun a few moments to answer. “It’s really nice,” he says, smoothing a hand on his silk shirt. “It feels vintage, but I guess that’s just how Paris is. It’s got big windows, and there’s a bakery just a couple of blocks away. And I’m aware this sounds so unoriginal, but their pain au chocolate is to die for.”

“Some food hits differently if you’re eating it in the place it became famous for,” Junmyeon says, agreeing to it.

***

“I’m sorry about him,” Junmyeon says to Sehun when their dinner is over. Chanyeol volunteered to drive home, as he doesn’t consume much wine. He’s in Junmyeon’s car right now. “He just... felt a little under the weather.”

Sehun raise his eyebrows as he put on his blazer. “Here I thought you’d never be the one to excuse his boyfriend’s shitty attitude.”

“He’s not shitty,” Junmyeon says, offended. “I’m serious. He’s a good person. He just have this preconceived notion about rich people. I’ll talk to him, okay? I’m sorry this dinner’s ruined. How long are you staying here? Can we have lunch tomorrow?”

Sehun doesn’t look amused. “You know, for us rich people, the person who has a preconceived notion about us is exactly our type of shitty person.”

That, among other things in life like homophobes and for Junmyeon, anti-vaxx moms. “Lunch?” he says, hopeful to rekindle this friendship.

Sehun sighs. “Fine,” he says, as if he were coerced into it. “Just no more French food, okay? If I see another French food I’m gonna throw up immediately.”

“You recommended this place,” Junmyeon unhelpfully points out. “How’s Korean food? Can’t forget about our roots, can we? Especially after being abroad for so long.”

Sehun ponders about this. “Do me a favor and don’t bring your boyfriend with you? Not because I hate him, because I do, I hate him, but because I want to talk to you without you carrying the burden that your boyfriend might be bored by our ‘rich people talk’?” Sehun used the air quotation for ‘rich people talk’, and Junmyeon laughs despite himself.

“Well, after what happened he wouldn’t wanna go anyway.”

It’s chilly when they stepped outside, and Junmyeon wants to chide Sehun for only wearing a blazer. “Are you sure you don’t want me to give you a ride?” Junmyeon asks.

“Can’t if I want to,” Sehun says. “Already ordered my Uber. You should go first. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He pulls Junmyeon into a hug. “You smell good. Tom Ford?”

“Fucking Fabulous,” Junmyeon says, patting Sehun on the shoulder. “Take care.”

***

The car ride is silent, neither of them wants to talk about what happened. From the first time they moved in, they agreed that they shouldn’t go to bed angry at each other, but it seem as though they’re about to.

Eventually, though, Junmyeon can’t help it. “I’ll tell Sehun you’re sorry,” he says.

“I’m not sorry for what I said,” Chanyeol says. 

Junmyeon laughs incredulously. “You’re not?” He rhetorically asks. “You offended him. You made an assumption. You...” Junmyeon doesn’t want to say it. “You embarassed me.”

Chanyeol doesn’t say anything, and Junmyeon doesn’t even realize they’ve arrived. Chanyeol gets out of the car immediately, slamming the car door shut. Junmyeon doesn’t come after him, instead he remained seated, watching Chanyeol’s tall figure disappear in an elevator.

***

When he comes up, he finds Chanyeol sleeping on the couch that’s too small for him, his legs dangling on the ends.

Junmyeon decides not to say anything, walking past by him and shut the bedroom door. Not so loud it’ll disturb him, but just to let it known that he’s here. He knows Chanyeol can hear him.

***

It’s six am when Junmyeon wakes up, and Chanyeol has left already, the blankets are neatly folded and the throw pillows are in the exact same position as it were before. It doesn’t look like anyone has slept in it save for the blanket.

He’s probably out for his morning run. Chanyeol usually runs at seven, but considering the circumstances, he probably jumped at the first chance of being away from Junmyeon.

Junmyeon stared at his phone, pondering if he shoud call him or not.

He sets his phone back.

***

“You look stressed,” is what Sehun says when Junmyeon meet him for lunch later.

“Chanyeol hasn’t come home,” Junmyeon answers, running a hand through his hair. “I called his friend but he didn’t know where he is. He’s probably at his sister’s, but I don’t want to call her.” Yoora is fiercely protective of Chanyeol, after all.

“Let him be,” Sehun waves dismissively. “He probably need some time to clear his head.”

Junmyeon raise his eyebrow at Sehun. “You’re not offended?”

Sehun laughs. “Offended? For what? For being asked something that is frequently asked to me? Nah, I’ve lost the energy to get mad at that since high school.”

Junmyeon wants to say something, but the waitress comes to take their order. They become silent after the waitress left, and Junmyeon take notes of Sehun’s outfit today; a camel mock-neck sweater, probably cashmere. He still donned the black belt, but it’s not the Gucci one he wore last night. A black trouser, probably tailored, something that he always wore in place of jeans, because Sehun despise jeans. 

“I just don’t know what his deal is,” Junmyeon sighs frustratedly. “I don’t know if he’s jealous, or if he just doesn’t like you. I already told him that it’s ridiculous to dislike someone you barely know.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Sehun says. “I used to hate people who wear cargo pants. I still do.”

“You hate everyone in college. You always make sure I know that.”

“I don’t hate you,” Sehun nudge his thigh with his foot under the table. Junmyeon is sure he can see the shoe mark on his pants right now.

“Only because you like the Acne Studio sweater I was wearing when we first met.”

Sehun is silent, staring at Junmyeon for a moment. “I’ve no doubt he’s a good guy. You’re not the type to be blinded by love that you can’t see he’s a jerk. I believe you when you said he’s not feeling well.”

“Thank you,” Junmyeon says, relieved. “He really is. A good guy. He makes me really happy.”

***

Chanyeol is in the kitchen when Junmyeon came home.

Washing the dishes, to be exact. Junmyeon sees the plethora of food he’s cooked on the dining table. He doesn’t say anything.

Chanyeol lift his head up when he notice Junmyeon is present. “Uh... I’ve cooked, in case you’re hungry,” he says awkwardly, darting his head back to the dishes.

“I already ate,” Junmyeon replies curtly. He brushes past Chanyeol, opening the cupboard to retrieve a glass, pouring himself a drink.

“With Sehun?”

“Yes,” Junmyeon says. “With Sehun.”

The water stops running, and Chanyeol dries his hands with a dry cloth. “Junmyeon, I’m sorry,” he says, this time he’s looking at Junmyeon. “You’re right. I shouldn’t have been so rude to Sehun. There was no need for me to be so condescending to him. I’m sorry I ruined the dinner last night. I was selfish, I realized that now. You haven’t met him for so long, and I ruined it for you. And I’m sorry for running out like that. I’m sorry, I really am.”

“Baekhyun called you?” Junmyeon sets down the glass.

“He did.”

Junmyeon’s grip on the glass is so tight it might as well shatter. “You realized that he’s been nothing but nice to you, and yet you act so condescending to him anyway. You underestimated him because he was born from old money, when not even once did Sehun made any assumption about you or your financial condition. You are fully aware that I haven’t met him in so long, yet you go around letting your damn ego ruin what was supposed to be a good night for me and for him and possibly for you. How can you be so stupid and so selfish at the same time?”

Chanyeol doesn’t answer. He doesn’t answer for a long time. Junmyeon gave up waiting and rise from his seat, heading to the bedroom and locking it.

***

He shouldn’t have made a big deal out of it. He shouldn’t have deliver that speech about how ridiculous Chanyeol was at the dinner. He should have forgiven him and let the matter go.

The thing is, Junmyeon has a tendency with holding grudges. He isn’t the type to forgive and forget immediately. And he hates it, hates that he is that type of person. But it’s so, so hard to forgive someone so stupid, even when they aknowledged and apologized for it.

Junmyeon finally made an effort to get out of the bedroom when he can no longer ignore the grumble in his stomach. The food Chanyeol cooked in the afternoon has probably gone bad, or he’s probably finished all of it. It’s fine, he can just have a bowl of cereal.

It’s around ten pm right now, and he expected Chanyeol to have been asleep already. But Chanyeol isn’t asleep, nor did he look like he’s about to go to bed. He remained seated on the couch, with no entertainment to accompany him with. The TV is turned off, and he’s not holding his phone.

He just sits there, and when the bedroom door creaks open, he lifts his head, his eyes is filled with hope.

“You’re jealous,” Junmyeon says, leaning against the doorframe. “You’re jealous of Sehun.”

Chanyeol’s smile falls, and his eyes no longer shine. He looks down on the hardwood floor, and Junmyeon doesn’t have to ask for the second time. He is. God, he fucking is.

“Should I have not?” Chanyeol asks rhetorically, meeting Junmyeon’s eyes. He can’t make anything out of his expression. “You talk about him like a clergyman talks about a God.”

“That ‘God’ happens to be my friend, my old friend,” Junmyeon sharply retorts.

“And yet he still managed to make me feel inadequate anyway,” Chanyeol says. “You’re right. He isn’t as pretentious or arrogant as I thought he would be. He was nice. But I didn’t have to be a Sherlock Holmes to know he’s judging the way I dress.”

_You were wearing an old faded hoodie from your university to a nice restaurant, did you really not expect anyone to judge? _Is left unsaid. “But he didn’t tell it in front of your face, did he?” is what Junmyeon says instead. “You know what? Maybe it isn’t _him_ being pretentious. Maybe it was _you_.”

Chanyeol looks up immediately, and Junmyeon knew he had hit it right where it hurts. Chanyeol scoffs, “You’re defending him.”

“Yeah, because you’re being so fucking ridiculous right now, looking for threats where none exist.”

“Maybe you should just be with him,” Chanyeol says. He rose from the couch, looking as though he no longer holds back. “He has everything that you want. He lives in Paris, he understood fashion. He’s rich and famous and he’s everything that I’m not. Why waste your time with someone who can’t keep up?”

He really, really wished Chanyeol didn’t say that.

“I wish you know just how ridiculous you sounded right now.” Junmyeon no longer hold back too, and he slam the door so hard the neighbours might hear.

***

“And you didn’t have to put your feet up the dashboard,” Junmyeon reaches over to pinch his feet down, and Sehun yelps, immediately setting his feet down.

“How’s it going with Chanyeol, by the way?” Sehun asks. “You two still not talking to each other?”

To say they aren’t talking to each other is understatement. Junmyeon doesn’t even know where he is right now. Junmyeon heard the door being shut right after he went inside the bedroom. This time he doesn’t bother calling Baekhyun or his other friends to find out where he is.

That was three days ago.

“Nothing you should be worried about,” Junmyeon answers vaguely. “We’re fine.”

Sehun doesn’t look convinced, but Junmyeon is glad he decided to leave it at that. He shrugs. “If you say so.”

***

He had expected to come home to an empty apartment, as it had always been for the past four days. He doesn’t know what to expect when he came home to Chanyeol vacuuming the apartment, the noise from the machine filled the room.

Despite the noise, though, Chanyeol still hear him closing the door. He turns around, turning off the vacuum.

“You didn’t have to do that.” Junmyeon says awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.

“It’s... dirty.” Chanyeol’s tone possess the same level of awkwardness that Junmyeon has. His eyes doesn’t stop moving, as though looking at anywhere is better than looking at him.

Junmyeon looks down the hardwood floor. He hasn’t had the time to vacuum – work has kept him from doing so – and it’s not like he’ll do it the second he has the time to do so anyway. Cleaning has always been Chanyeol’s thing, not his. Ironic, considering what he does for a living. “I see.”

Chanyeol nods. “Did you, um, drive Sehun to the airport?”

Junmyeon nods too, _they couldn’t have been more awkward if they tried_. He hangs his coat in the hanger. “How do you know?”

He shrugs, shoulders stiff. “I just, uh, figured. He’s your friend and all. Made sense to see him off.”

Junmyeon would rather be stuck in the morgue than continue this dead end, dull conversation. It felt like they were conversing because they were both forced to do so, at gunpoint. In that case Junmyeon would gladly take the bullet. “I’m going to change,” he mutters, probably not clear enough for Chanyeol to hear, but he doesn’t stay to hear his answer.

“Junmyeon?”

“Yeah?” Junmyeon asks, his hand on the door handle, not opening the door just yet.

“What should we order for dinner?”

Junmyeon shrugs mindlessly. “Whatever you want is fine.”

“Pizza?”

Junmyeon nods. “Okay. Pizza.”

He ended up not changing his clothes at all – it was only when Chanyeol shakes his body gently that he realizes he’s sleeping.

“The pizza,” Chanyeol says simply, leaving the bedroom immediately afterwards.

***

Chanyeol had laid out the pizza box open on the dining table, but he ate in the living room, watching TV. Meanwhile Junmyeon eats in the kitchen.

He didn’t say anything when Junmyeon steps out of the bedroom. He looks away from the TV, and when he catches Junmyeon’s eyes, he quickly diverts his gaze back to the TV, like he’s scared of him.

They’re standing side by side now, Junmyeon washing the dishes and Chanyeol drying them and putting them back into the rack.

This is funny. Their relationship is funny. They have yet to discuss what happened, nothing between them is solved, yet here they are, side by side on the kitchen sink, washing and drying the dishes respectively. It feels like he’s having a dysfunctional roommate and not a boyfriend.

Junmyeon dries his hands with a dry cloth and turn off the water faucet. “Chanyeol, I think,” He bites his bottom lip to keep the words falling out, but it’s too late. “I think we should talk.”

When he look at Chanyeol’s face, Junmyeon felt so heartbroken he could cry. Chanyeol looks like he’d rather talk about anything but this. “Okay.” He sets down the cloth.

Yet none of them talk. They just stand still, side by side, just like how they are before. No one asked the other person to speak up, and no one start the initiative either. They just stand there, as if they were Broadway actors without chemistry at the end of the play.

Eventually, Junmyeon talks.

“You’re right,” Junmyeon says. “A life with Sehun must be nice. Easy. We both like many things. We like expensive red wine, Paris, high end fashion, and many things. Living in Paris has always been my dream. But I suppose it is truly unfortunate that I fell in love with you and not him. I love you. You, who don’t even know that there are multiple types of red wine, and the only time you’re out of the country is to visit your grandma in Korea. Most of the colours in your wardrobe are very solid and neutral and priced below a hundred dollars. But Chanyeol, I...” His tongue is tied, and his eyes are blurry. Junmyeon clutches the cloth in his fist tight, as if it’s an anchor and he’s drowning. “I don’t care with any of that, because I love you, and waking up with you, to you, makes me really happy. Just to hold your hand makes me feel so fucking happy, so fuck Paris and everything.” He looks up at Chanyeol’s eyes, not sure if he looks desperate or hopeful – at this point, he no longer knows which is which. “Can you say the same thing about me? Do you love me?”

Chanyeol meets his eyes, and Junmyeon can’t make out what emotion lies in his eyes. “I do,” Chanyeol says. “I love you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Balthazar is a really fancy French restaurant in NYC. I've never been there, I just did a lot of research so if I made a mistake do forgive me   
\- Originally I was planning on making this fic with an unspecified setting, but I have no creativity in creating good names for restaurants so I just gave up and made a research. But if you read the story you'd know I never specified if they really do live in New York  
\- Fucking Fabulous: https://www.tomford.com/fucking-fabulous/T6-FABULOUS.html  
\- Acne Studios is a luxury streetwear brand. It's basically H&M but for rich people  
\- Cabernet Sauvignon is a full bodied red wine. And also the name of the wine that Junmyeon and Sehun stole is Chateau Mouton Rothschild. That wine really did cost almost $700. 
> 
> Thank you so much for reading! If you enjoy spare the time for kudos and comments as a way to fulfill my constant need to be validated lmao jk. Thank you! <3


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